


He ain't missin' you

by TormentaPrudii



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Broken Heart, Genji makes an appearance, M/M, Pining, Post-Break Up, Self-Blame, heavy sads, like the kind when you see your ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TormentaPrudii/pseuds/TormentaPrudii
Summary: He told him to go, so he went. With each step his heart weeps.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148





	He ain't missin' you

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by another story that I wanted to my hand at and see with different elements.
> 
> As always thank you [ Saltcore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltCore/pseuds/SaltCore)for helping me with this

_ Quit checkin’ on him. _

It's what Jesse reads when he picks up his comm. The words display on the screen, he sees them before he even gets a chance to open a menu or send a message or read the status updates Athena still provides him.

“Quit checkin’ on him.” He forces himself to say, out into the stale air, the pain no longer a hot burn but a heavy cold deep in his chest. “He ain’t missin’ you.”

The words serve as a warning tag on a box he’d packed full of emotions, he can’t, and to be perfectly honest, won’t ever unpack. The weight of it all is the only thing he feels. The aftermath is only what he deals with because what’s the point to ponder shoulds, coulds, and would haves? Thinking about how it all started doesn’t tell him anything he likes about how it ended.

He puts the comm down. His hand moves to the glass just over half filled with a rich amber liquid that stings his nose and throat. It burns going down but it does nothing to the numb hollowness, doesn’t warm him in the least. He wasn’t expecting his hurt to turn into something so cold it makes him breathless, tightens his chest each time he dares to prod at its edges or when it merely wants to remind him it exists. Time heals all wounds but no one ever mentions the between.

Granted he might be hoping for too much, it’s only been a month since.... Jesse lifts the cigar to his lips, rolling it between his fingers for a moment eyes idly listing around the room. His heartache isn’t covered in dust just yet. Not like this place, the only surfaces, a table he gave a half-hearted swipe to and the boot prints he’s tracked around on the floor, revealed to the world, free of dust. He can only hope with time it become like this place. But it's more likely his heart will resemble this place before his pain ever does.

Watchpoint Grand Mesa is a crumbled shell of itself. After Seventy-six broke in, it was stripped even barer and abandoned. It's a good a place as any to nurse the ache in his chest. It's good he’s alone in a section of the watchpoint only few knew of, a few levels underground and a bit to the west. He held off roaming around base like a ghost until he arrived at Grand Mesa. Kept everything about business till wheels were up and he was alone in the cargo bay. Only then did he let the hurt show. 

“No. My place is not on that path. But it’s yours. It’s where you belong.”

Quietly spoken words that split Jesse nose to navel. Jesse was gone two days later. Leaving whatever he and Hanzo were starting to have between them, on a rocky island in the Mediterranean. No, it wasn’t _ whatever _. It was drinking with the stars above him and moon right beside him. It was shooting at the range, the strum of a bow singing joy into him. It was a slice of cake and pie filling his eyes with unending smiles. It was soft and rough touches in the dark and a closeness that could only be home.

It wasn’t whatever. 

It was _ love _. 

Oh, how it was so very much love. And oh, how very much in love he had been. It had to be love, only love could hurt this much, he realized much later drifting around the section of the watchpoint that had been his so long ago and was his once again. Only love could scoop out all the light in him when it left, when he left.

When he was told to go, go claim the ruined kingdom of a bygone era. His mission to revive it.

Now in the quiet moments, the tired moments, the moments his chest is so tight he’s nearly breathless from the hollowness, he says the words, “Quit checkin’ on him. He ain’t missin’ you.”

-

He goes back to the Gibraltar Watchpoint after he assesses Grand Mesa. He’d just wanted to drop off some equipment he found hidden deep in storage, that might be useful. He intended to leave immediately but he was swept up and taken to the lounge. Everyone was in good spirits welcoming the latest members and he stuck to the back, out of the way, hidden in plain sight. 

He didn’t have to see Hanzo arrive to know he did. He felt it in the air, a slight buzz, a charge in the spaces between the molecules in the air. He’s greeted with cheers. Hana yelling and waving, calling him over to her and her group of a few of the new Overwatch members. Some Jesse hadn’t even met yet. 

“Hanzo, this is Baptiste.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m looking forward to being on a mission with you. I’ve heard your skill is quite impressive.”

“The fireteam I’m apart of already has a support. Are you replacing—”

“Oh no, no, no, Baptiste can also act as a sharpshooter, least till we find a replacement for McCree. He flew in just a bit ago. Wonder if he stuck around for the party.”

Jesse ducks out of sight when Hanzo’s eyes dart around the room. Jesse’s sure he’s looking for him but can only guess why. Did he want to ensure Jesse wasn’t there? And if he was, to remind him, his place isn’t here? Not in a callous way, but harsh nonetheless. Brash and abrasive without meaning to, without intending to.

Jesse slips out of the lounge without anyone seeing and is in the air flying back to Grand Mesa before anyone could stop him. Before Hanzo could be unintentionally cruel. He doesn’t need to deepen the gouge already in his heart.

So he misses Hanzo’s sharp amber eyes catching the edge of his serape snapping behind him and the heaviness that falls over them when the red fabric vanishes through the doorway.

-

It took some doing, breathing life into the dust and ashes. Jesse traveled for months on end, seeking old and new contacts. Dropping a pebble into the shadowy pond that is the criminal underworld that would ripple out and whisper the coming of the new king, the rightful heir, of Blackwatch.

He gets a new comm. He doesn’t set the display with the words he’s already carved into his heart, he won’t ever forget them, and now more than ever believes them. He pieces together a team. He doesn’t keep to the shadows. He hides in plain sight. It’s amazing what he can do with a pair of glasses and a press pass. He swaps out the hat and belt buckle more often, cuts his hair and beard, adopts a long jacket at times. 

He and his team do reconnaissance and investigations, sends intel and leads to Overwatch proper. He doesn’t make any other kind of contact. Sees Genji or Fareeha in person so infrequently, he’s sure they don’t notice when he’s stopped messaging altogether after a year then two. He watches from afar. Sees Overwatch become legitimate. Toasts to the victories. Lets his heart finally starts to heal. 

Then Genji shows up in his new watchpoint. Jesse’s a bit annoyed his security measures were no match for the ninja but it all vanishes the moment he looks into Genji’s stricken face, Jesse freezes. 

His heart clenches, pulling at the healing wound. 

“It’s Talon. Reaper...Reyes wants to join Overwatch, bringing…” Genji’s looking at Jesse’s face carefully before he continues, “Amelie Lacriox. He wants to bring Widowmaker with him. And maybe another.” 

The newly healing wound is left untouched but much older and deeper wounds are brought to bare. He foolishly thought those wounds had scarred over, unable to cause him turmoil. The months leading up to his departure of Blackwatch rumbling and whirling in his mind. The same kind of emotions packed into the much older box he’d shoved away deep within himself. Yet the shame and regret wouldn’t be contained. He takes a seat across from his old friend, so alike so many years ago and perhaps they still are, different but the same in so many ways. In the ways the mattered. 

Jesse sighs, tosses his hat on his desk and pops the stopper in the bottle to pour two glasses. He hands one to Genji who takes it and drinks immediately. 

“Well, best tell me the whole thing. Lay it on me, partner.” Genji goes and the liquor isn’t the only thing that burns within Jesse.

-

By the time they arrive to the newly renovated Watchpoint Gibraltar the meeting was in full swing. They have no problem slipping into the conference room unnoticed. Not with the shouting going on. Jesse knows most of the faces in the room, but not all of them. He has a moment to wonder if they’ve heard of him and those who do, do they remember? Or has he been...his eyes start to roam.

_ Quit checkin’ on him. He ain’t missin’ you. _

“--think they will just accept a traitor turned terrorist, the assassin of Omnic rights activist, and a hacking blackmailer join Overwatch’s rank without batting an eye?”

“That’s not what we are saying. We know there will be—” Fareeha is standing her ground, Seventy-six with the senior Amari at his side, both looking down at her with parental disapproval written all over their face. Reinhardt and Torbjorn caught in the middle to the side. There’s anger and frustration buzzing in the air and trepidation. 

The room is split for the most part. Each half having members of the old guard, both first and second generation, and the newest members of Overwatch. 

“There will be judgement. They will want them in chains and locked away. Harboring them will put everything we’ve rebuilt at risk.”

A murmur of agreement rises from the members clustering around the far side of the room, the side Fareeha, Angela, and now Genji as he takes his place with them.

“There’s always going to be a risk for anything we do. There will always be the threat of us being dismantled aga—“

“So listen to me. Overwatch can’t accept—“

“Criminals?” Jesse’s had enough. His voice cuts through the room so sharply he might as well have fired Peacekeeper. Heads swivel around looking for the source, for him. Jesse ignores a pair of amber eyes settling on him. “Must be losin’ your memory there ol’ timer.” 

Jesse walks forward, the crowd parting for him, his spurs jingling.

“Since it turned out so well last time?” Jesse knows the way Seventy-six’s mouth is curled in disgust under his visor when he speaks.

“Turned out a man who saved a lot of lives through the years, is what it did. All because someone gave him a second chance. Ain’t that what Overwatch is built on?” He pointedly looks around the room at the various faces. But his eyes don't find the one face he's familiar with the most . “On making the world a better place, on giving folks hope? You name me a better way to give someone hope than to give them a second chance to do right, to show them they can. Bet you can’t.”

Jesse’s skin tingles. Hanzo sweeps forward to stand near him. Close enough to feel the air around him charge with energy but still so, so far away. His breath escapes him, chest constricted in a way he was unlearning over the past months. 

“I also wager, you cannot.” Jesse’s heart hammers, flutters, twists at the sound of Hanzo’s voice so close. “You also, forget we have already allowed persons of similar caliber to join. Yourself included.” 

Jesse hadn’t forgotten per se, he’s always been in awe when Hanzo unfurls, looks forward to it at times, his presence taking up so much space, very much the leader he was groomed to be, authority in his voice that would make his men straighten their backs and think twice about going against him. Nearly menacing. Jesse just realized how much he missed seeing it. 

_ Quit checkin’ on him. He ain’t missin’ you. _

“Fine but they go with you and your new—“

“No. You ain’t throwin’ them in the shadows like you did with _ me, _ like dirty secrets. Ain’t how this is goin’ to work, not again. We ain’t doing it like _ you _ did.”

“Like I did? Like I did, like we did, for two decades!? We’ve already been down this road. We know how this works. We—“

“Failed!” Jesse shouts back. “You know one way of doing things. One. And we've seen how that ended. Now you’re fixin’ to fight against us because we ain't stepping in line with your way of doing things? Bullshit. You’re supposed to guide the next generation, not damn them to repeat _ your _mistakes."

-

Hours later, after more yelling and talking and yelling. After fists are nearly thrown, after heads are pulled out of asses. After hugging Fareeha and Ana. After meeting new members. After getting clapped on the back by Genji. After a good natured scolding from Angela about smoking. After more and more and more, Jesse is exhausted. He wants to go back to his small quiet dark hidden watchpoint. He wants to see the few agents he has, listen to the demi-god AI bitch about the topic of the day. He makes his escape to one of his old favorite spots. To just hear the waves for a minute, before going back to being land-locked.

“Jesse.” 

A glance over his shoulder shatters all the confidence and authority he had during the meeting, makes him acutely aware of the place he’s treading on, how he doesn’t belong here. Caught out in the open with no cover. A sniper’s eyes on him.

“Hanzo.” Jesse turns around taking a step back, he needs the distance. He reckons he’ll need it to hide his face in the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. But right now he looks over Hanzo’s face. He’s just as Jesse remembers him. Sharp eyes, broad chest and shoulders, sides of his head buzzed. He’s thin like when he first showed up to the watchpoint. Overtraining and not treating himself right, not resting. Jesse’s wonders when that started again. Was it after Jesse left? How did he know he would be here? Did Genji tell him? Or did he remember— No, it’s not his place to wonder such things. He has no right. Not anymore.

“You’re different.”

“No,” Jesse takes a drag of his cigar, exhaling the smoke to curl around his words, “I ain’t.”

“Yes, of course.” Hanzo makes small step forward. Hesitant. “I…. You were quite commendable. It must have been difficult.” His eyes peer up into the shadow cast by the hat’s brim, looking Jesse straight on. “As I’m sure is the work you’ve taken upon yourself. The path you walk.” 

Jesse wishes he would close the gap, wishes he would touch him, he looks like he wants to. God he wishes— 

_ Quit checkin’ on him. He ain’t missin’ you. _

“I’ve gotta be on my way.” Jesse tips hat and spins away to leave.

“Wait. Jesse.” Hanzo has finally reached out, his hand grasping around Jesse’s wrist. “I...thank you for coming back.” 

For coming back? What’s that supposed to mean? Why would he say that? Jesse’s too mentally drained and too emotionally stretched out to try to understand Hanzo’s meaning. His intentions. Not now, not after everything, after telling him to go. 

“Adios,” he says instead and pulls away Hanzo’s fingers sliding against the back of his hand. 

-

Not even a week later Hanzo shows up at Jesse’s watchpoint. The new AI announcing his presence to Jesse. Curiosity and he supposes propriety draws him to go to the hangar and greet Hanzo to the watchpoint properly. He can feel his feet getting lighter with each step he takes, how the air starts to buzz, a soothing balm that tries to quell the clenching of his heart. 

Hanzo isn’t facing him. Jesse’s glad. “The view is spectacular.” It’s storming in the distance. Thunderous booms and crackling of lightning in the dark clouds. Storms were always his favorite. 

“Sure is.” Jesse’s drawl slowing the words. “How’s Winston and Lena handling leadership?”

“Very well, given the circumstances.”

“Genji good?”

“Very. How are you?”

“I’m good.” Jesse says in a way that almost sounds like a question. But not about his welling but why he was asked. 

“And, uh, how are you?”

“I’m well.” 

“I, uh, sent my last report already. Did Winston need something more?” He asks, not able to form the words, _ why are you here _ ? _ What could you want from me? _

“I was in the area for an assignment. Hadn’t seen the watchpoint.” 

“Right.”

Jesse feels heavy, small talk having run its course, he doesn’t know what to say. How to say anything to Hanzo who turned his way, studying Jesse’s face. Jesse watches those amber eyes rove over his features. Does he see something new? Old? Has he changed more than he thought? He reaches up and scratches at the shortened stubble on his face. 

Using the motion to keep from breaking the silence.

Jesse was more than often the one to ask prying questions. To break the silence. Asking Hanzo what he was thinking, a habit of pensiveness Hanzo growing pensive when he learned that Jesse would break his stoic cowboy manner to ask what he was thinking. A game they played. So Jesse could hear Hanzo’s voice. So Hanzo could hear Jesse’s. It’s what did it in the end or rather in the beginning.

_ He ain’t missing you. He doesn’t care ‘bout you. Not any more. _

Jesse clears his throat to push down the ache creeping in behind his ribs. 

“Well then, enjoy the view.” Jesse leaves Hanzo there, disappearing with long strides into the depths of his watchpoint. 

After milling about for a few moments longer, Hanzo boards the transport to leave, Jesse stands in the hangar's shadows to watch.

-

He comes back weeks later. 

“Good day, Jesse.”

“Howdy. Passing through again?” The shock of seeing him here had faded. The ache is back, the breathlessness of intrigue at Hanzo’s presence and a surprising simmering anger stretching him in different directions. Messy emotions for the messiness of life.

“I saw the status report you sent Winston.” Hanzo was always good at giving non-answers. 

“Oh,” Jesse’s head tilts down just slightly, to look to the side. Taps the toe of the boot into the ground. He can’t look at Hanzo’s face. Memories of the pain he’d felt not long enough ago echoing in his mind. 

“The equipment you used was quite impressive, was it of your own making?” Hanzo hurriedly says when Jesse shifts his weight backwards to retreat, a farewell on the cusp of his lips.

“Yes. I...it took the team a few tries but yes.” 

“It’s very fitting. Simple yet effecti—” Jesse doesn't know why but it sounds like Hanzo's in pain, teeth being pulled as he gives the compliment. Jesse can't stand it. 

“Yes. Thank you.” Jesse cuts him off. 

Hanzo reaches up with his hand, and for a terrifying moment Jesse thinks he’s going to reach out and touch him. He doesn’t. He strokes his goatee. It’s too much, too close of a call. Jesse’s heart is jackrabbit fast. Run. 

“I gotta go. An agent will show you anything you want. Enjoy your visit.” Jesse whistles. An agent come walking over. 

“Yes, apologies. You must have work to do.”

Jesse nods and flees. Hanzo doesn't look at the agent until Jesse is out of sight. 

-

“Hello, Jesse. Another lovely view.” It's storming again. He’s smiling. “Genji is well.”

Jesse’s confusion and irritation at the storm happening within his own chest at Hanzo’s continued reappearance overrides his decision to remain safely distant, opening the door without even thinking.

“Why?” Damn it. Damn himself. And damn Hanzo and his smile.

“I presume it's because Overwatch is doing well. He and—”

“No, that ain’t what I—” Fine. He can do this. He can ask the questions he’s been wanting to since the first time Hanzo’s show up. “Why are you here?”

He’d never expected the answer to be what it is. The hollowness isn’t there like he also expects, there’s only anger when Hanzo says, “I wanted to see you.” 

The smile fades and Jesse shoves the part of him deflating at the loss to the side. 

“Why?” 

_ He ain't missin' you. _

But Hanzo doesn’t say anything. He opens his mouth to shut it, clicking his teeth together. Jesse catches him curling his fingers into his palm, fingernails digging into the meat of it. It's been too long, Jesse doesn’t know what his tells means anymore. If he ever did. He doesn’t have time to figure it out, to play whatever game this is.

“Right.” Jesse nods his head and lets out a puff of air. “Alright.” He’s leaves. He’s done. Enough is enough.

-

The next time Hanzo visits, Jesse watches him search for him. He doesn’t know the base as well. The AI helps shepherding Hanzo away from Jesse. Jesse keeps an eye on his whereabouts but keeps to the shadows and buries himself in work. 

-

The time after that Jesse locks himself in his quarters, the AI tells Hanzo he isn’t there. Hanzo doesn’t grow irritated like Jesse would have expected when the AI refuses to reveal his whereabouts. He gives a small nod to the speaker in the ceiling and his shoulders drop just a hint before leaving.

_ Stop checkin’ on him. He ain’t missin’ you. _

-

The third time, Jesse is returning from a mission. Hanzo’s in his office. Damn ninja. 

He turns and goes the other way. He refuses to think of the days when Hanzo would be in his room after a long flight, flakes of blood on his armor, muscles sore craving relief. 

-

Hanzo doesn’t come looking for Jesse the next time. He wonders the hallways taking in the facility. His sharp eye measuring the training room, the shooting range, and all the details down to the doors. 

At the shooting range he’s able to pick out the booth Jesse favors without ever having seen him fire there. He stares out at the mountainous view for a long while before leaving. 

-

Jesse didn’t expect to be sad when Hanzo doesn’t return after that. When did he start to look forward to Hanzo showing up? He’s annoyed with himself for days because of it. 

-

A joint mission between Jesse’s new outfit and Overwatch brings them together. Battered and bruised Jesse sits on a stack of cargo in the back of the Orca. Jesse feels the weight of Hanzo’s eyes on him the entire ride back. Meets his eyes once. Again and again Hanzo curls and uncurls his hands. Fists then open palms drumming his fingers against his thigh. Jesse has a clear view from the shadow of his hat’s brim. Impatience radiates off of Hanzo and Jesse likewise has the urge to move, to be away from the bright path that isn’t meant for him. He knows where he belongs. 

Yet it conflicts with another urge, an older one. He’s only mildly surprised when it seeps into him. An urge to comfort. His fingers itch to thread between Hanzo’s. Plant kisses at his temples. Whisper reassurances. Jesse focuses on the report to distract him. He doesn’t know what to do with this urge. He can’t act on it. No matter how much a part of him wants to, that bizarrely brings up all the things Hanzo whispered to him in moments of intimacy. No, he tells himself, do the report, get it done so he doesn’t have to linger at the Overwatch Watchpoint. Maybe he should have pushed harder for a second transport. Once wheels hit the deck and the ramp is down Jesse and his team are gone. Hanzo is the only one who misses Jesse’s quiet humming once he’s gone. 

-

Hanzo corners him on his next visit, days later. God. Damn. Ninjas. His AI only had half a breath to warn him. After the trill of his comm, a silence hangs between them. Hanzo breaks it in a rush of words.

“Why did you love me before? When I was arrogant and...cruel. Cold. I had nothing to give you, you didn’t already have. How do I...how did you...why did you?”

Jesse takes the words like a blow, recoiling back. Spoken so quickly. Had Hanzo meant to say them so fast? To say so much? All the walls Jesse’s built, all the defenses, shattered in a single moment. Unleashing hurt and want within his heart. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Even though wounded part of him wants to know why Hanzo wants to know, not caring it doesn’t matter, after all has been said and done. The pointlessness of it all makes him say the words with an edge to it, daring, not expecting an answer. 

But Hanzo does.

“It does matters.” Hanzo jabs at Jesse. He stops to collect himself, makes himself stand up straight and stare Jesse in the eye. “Because I miss you. I thought it would...fade. I thought seeing you succeed on your own path would be enough. That you’d end up different, that I’d end up different. But…I miss you.”

His memories murmur to him, _ he told you to go _.

_ But now he’s here _, he says to the memories to sweep them away.

“I never considered it would be difficult for you to walk a path from your past again… to lead others down it with you. The strength you have, the courage. You’ve created something far better.” 

Hanzo’s rambling, he hardly ever rambles. Only when he was overwhelmed with emotion. Only when he confessed his feelings so long ago. Confessed his love. It’s electric. He’s electric. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“I’m sorry. I should have, could have acted differently, treated you better. You deserved better. I don’t know what I did to make you fall in love with me. I was a lesser man than I am today and I don’t know how.... I miss you. I’ve missed you since I told you to go. Tell me how, what did I do?”

Something in Jesse breaks and weeps. Tears filling him. Tears of joy. Of hope. His chest caves in and a shaky breath escapes. 

“Unless you’ve moved on...unless you’ve…” 

“You don’t know?” How could he not know? How could he not know what Jesse did that damned to a glimpse of heaven to only have it ripped away? Of short lived bliss that ended in despair. How Jesse bound them together on the path that lead them here. How could he not know? Wasn’t it why Hanzo told Jesse to go? Wasn’t it?

“I don’t. Forgive me. I don’t.” 

“You picked a side.” The words are bitter in his mouth. A known but not often looked at truth brings up a bit of regret and the memory of that day. “I made you pick a side.” 

The sunset had been at Jesse’s right, a bag on his shoulder. Hanzo disheveled from running through the island’s nature reserve to get to him in time. He’d dropped down from a tree to stop him. Hanzo had stood in front of him panting. And when Jesse made Hanzo say the words that set them on this course, he’d only paid attention to the slightest hint of desperate longing that made Jesse’s heart sing. He chose to ignore that there was something else in Hanzo’s voice that day. He’d only heard it after reliving the memory again and again. In his voice was something that didn’t like being forced to choose. The last time his hand was forced he’d drawn his blade against his brother. 

Jesse knows all too well what it is to be your own person. Not be forced by anything other than one's own judgement. And he’d done just that to Hanzo. Jesse knew it was why Hanzo told him to go. 

“You did.” Hanzo’s features softened while he remembers, a sharp smile of his starting to crest his lips. “I never thanked you. For so long I was on the fence. I still don’t know who you made me decide.” 

Jesse blinks, trying to process the words Hanzo just spoke. Thank him? He’s thanking him? And he’s smiling. Why would he be smiling? Jesse had forced his hand. It’s why he told Jesse to go...wasn’t it? 

“I asked,” Jesse licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry, “if _ you _wanted me to stay.” 

“You asked.” Hanzo’s smile starts to fall. “And I told you to stay with me. I told you to join Overwatch and stay with me. Only for you, you said. Only for me.” 

“Forgive me for giving you with an ultimatum.” Jesse’s stunned into silence. A chill running out from his chest to the tips of his fingers. Forgive Hanzo? But he hadn’t done…. It was him, Jesse, that had….

Hanzo sighing and slumping his shoulders yanks Jesse out of his head. “And then...to tell you to leave. The timing of it all...so off. Forgive me.” 

For Jesse the floor falls out from under him. His world goes completely black before a bright light bursts and shows him, he’d be wrong.

“It weren’t your fault. We couldn’t’ve known, darlin’.” 

They couldn’t have known where the road would lead them. They couldn’t have known the timing of their beginning was off. They couldn’t of known. 

And Jesse was wrong for thinking it’d been him all along.

The brightness in him showing him the error of his ways fills him with jubilance because now…

Now Hanzo is standing a few feet away with a determination set in his jaw. Hanzo is standing a few feet away telling Jesse everything he’s wanted for so long. 

Now Hanzo stands here, on Jesse’s path, looking at him with a burning intensity of want, electrifying the air. 

Because now they have a second chance. And Jesse has hope for them. Jesse raises a hand to grab their second chance, to walk a joined a path again.

Hanzo reaches back, grabbing Jesse’s hand to press to his face, leaning into the touch, pulling them closer together, “Jesse, do you want me to stay?”

“Always,” Jesse presses his nose alongside Hanzo’s, inhaling before pressing his lips against Hanzo’s. They meld together. Jesse swears the sun is trying to explode from inside him. 

“Join Blackwatch,” Jesse says when they part the slightest of distances for air, “stay with me.”

“Only for you.”


End file.
